Halo
by So Much Tea
Summary: There isn't any good in Malfoy, Hermione thought as she climbed through the portrait hole. Not one slither of goodness. At least that's what she thought. But not everything is black and white. Not everything is seen as clearly as words on a page. It looks like Hermione might have to read between the lines. But is seeing the true Draco Malfoy worth risking everything for? Dramione.
1. Ron's Grudge

Chapter One

Ron's Grudge

When Harry's name flew out the goblet a few weeks ago, Hermione had to say she hadn't been completely surprised. Even since she heard about the Triwizard Tournament she'd been on tenterhooks, waiting for something bad to happen. It was hardly possible that they'd make it through a year without something bad happening. It was almost like she could feel it in her bones.

Yes, Hermione could always trust herself. She knew when something wasn't right. Even before she found out she was a witch, her parents would tell her she was ahead of her years. Of course, she'd always been highly logical which allowed her to see things other people couldn't. Which is why she couldn't ignore her gut when it told her that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

She had considered the possibility of You-Know-Who but the thought chilled her to the bone, so she tried not to think about that too much. You-Know-Who was gone. He would be back, but he was gone. And yet she still found herself lying awake at night, staring up at the patterned curtains of her four-poster bed, unable to shake the feeling of terror.

But if one thing comforted her, it was that Dumbledore was at Hogwarts. And with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, Harry was safe. With Dumbledore there, he couldn't be touched. _And if they get through Dumbledore, they'd have to get through me too,_ thought Hermione grimly. And _she_ wouldn't let them touch Harry. Neither would Ron. That's if, he were actually on speaking terms with his best friend again.

"Harry hasn't come to lunch today," she said tentatively, as she watched Ron shove pickled sandwiches into his mouth. Speaking about Harry was always a touchy subject.

Ron didn't say anything, as she already predicted he wouldn't. He just swallowed his sandwich and shovelled more into his mouth.

"I hope he's okay," she continued, when she saw his mouth was empty.

Ron grunted and picked up a pumpkin pasty. Hermione stared down at her own pasty, untouched and probably cold by now. How she hated it when they fought like this. She would give anything for them to make up so both of them could help Harry. He needed their help more than ever right now.

"Don't you feel guilty at all?"

Ron shrugged. "What should I feel guilty about? It's not my fault the git put his name in the Goblet, is it?"

Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think we both know Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet."

"Then how do you reckon it got in?" he snapped.

"I don't know," she snapped back.

An icy silence fell between them. Ron had stopped eating. Instead, he was glowering at his food like it was Harry himself. Hermione took a tentative sip of her pumpkin juice, trying to calm herself. Maybe she would be a bit more understanding if Ron wasn't being so selfish. He knew full well that Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. The truth was, someone else did it. Someone with mysterious and possibly murderous motives. If Ron didn't apologise to Harry and Harry died-

Well, it didn't bear thinking about.

It would have to be a very powerful wizard to be able to hoodwink Dumbledore, that was for sure.

Hermione chewed on her lip. A headache was starting to form in her temples. The pumpkin pasty in front of her looked even less appetising, verging on disgusting. She pushed her plate away and it scraped along the wooden table.

"Oh, go and talk to him if you really want to," snapped Ron. "I'll talk to Dean."

"Ron-"

"Go on. Go."

Hermione could tell by the way his ears were turning red that now was not the time to argue. So she gathered her books into her arms, threw her bag over her shoulder and stalked out the great hall, listening to the chatter of students disappear behind the doors.

The corridors were deserted. It was a nice day for November - the sun, unusually warm - and everyone was making the most of it. Not Harry though, she thought with a sinking in her chest. He was probably locked up in the common room, trying to work out how to face the dragons.

 _Dragons._ She shouldn't have been surprised. Dragons were dangerous, albeit fascinating to watch. The thing was, how would one get past them? Probably with a type of complicated magic they hadn't studied yet. The spells they'd been studying in Charms would only take them so far.

She started making her way to the library, but turned in her tracks. She had Defence Against the Dark Arts in an hour, and she wanted to talk to Harry before the lesson. Maybe he'd found something. At least, she hoped.

Clutching her books tighter to her chest, Hermione sped off to the Gryffindor common room. She'd just reached the moving staircases when a voice she knew all too well made her turn around.

"If it isn't Granger."

She should have ignored him. She should have kept walking as if he hadn't spoken - that's what she'd tell Harry to do - but the argument with Ron had set her on edge and she really was not in the mood.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she spat as she spun on her heel.

He was striding towards her, arms thrown out, robes flowing behind him. Crabbe and Goyle were hot on his heels, following like the lovesick puppies they were.

"Oh, nothing much. Just wondering how Potter plans to get past the dragons."

"How do you know about the dragons?" she asked, but realised the moment the words were out. His father. "Never mind."

She turned and started to make her way up the staircase. She'd hardly taken the first step when the scuffle of feet told her they were following closely behind. She turned around again to see them climbing up the staircase. With a jolt that threw them all sideways, it moved. Hermione gripped onto the bannister.

"You still didn't answer my question," Malfoy shouted up at her. "How's Potter going to get past the dragons? Without dying, that is."

"He's not going to die," she yelled back. She wished the staircase would hurry up moving so she could get off the stupid thing and away from him.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Granger. He won't have a mudblood like you helping him during the task, will he?"

Hermione reached for her wand. She had to stop herself, though her fingers itched to hold it. It wasn't because he'd beat her. She knew she'd win. She could curse him into an oblivion before the words 'My father' appeared on his snivelling, smug lips.

But she was better than that.

"Oh, hi Professor Moody," she called instead.

She couldn't help the way her lips curled into a smile at the way his eyes blew open in fear. She knew what was going on his mind. That truly terrible (and awfully funny) time when Professor Moody turned him into a ferret. Hermione knew he shouldn't have done it, and she knew that it was wrong in every way. She even mentioned to Harry and Ron that it was worrying, he could have hurt Malfoy, but it satisfied her. It may have been wrong but Draco Malfoy deserved it.

Malfoy threw a terrified glance over his shoulder. Crabbe and Goyle ran into each other in an attempt to get away as fast as possible. Laughing to herself, Hermione climbed the rest of the stairs.

"You'll pay for that, you filthy mudblood."

Just like that, her smile disappeared.

"Really!" the Fat Lady said, frowning in the direction of Malfoy. "Language like that."

"Balderdash," said Hermione glumly.

"It most certainly is!" cried the fat lady, and swung forward to let her climb through the portrait hole.

Harry wasn't anywhere to be seen, so she sunk down into the armchair by the fire and pulled one of her books out of her bag. _Dragon skin and other Magical Wonders of the Wizarding World._ With a heavy sigh, she let it fall open on her lap and got to work.

* * *

 **Hi there! First I'd like to thank you for reading, if you got this far! I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books and I've only just realised how badly I ship Dramione. I NEEDED something to happen between them and I can't quite pin-point why. Maybe it's because I heard a rumour that J. K Rowling was going to put them together - but I don't know if it's true.**

 **I have so many ideas and plans for this. I hope you like it! I'm trying to keep it as realistic as possible to the books. I know school Dramione has probably been done many times before, but this is my take on it! Anyway, let me know what you think! I've never written Dramione before and Draco is such a complex character, so I hope I do him justice. I hope you enjoy it!**


	2. Curses

**Hey there, I hope you like this one! I know how I'm going to do this one, so bear with me. I'm very excited. I actually have lots of Dramione fanfic ideas but this is going to be my starting one. I hope you like this chapter! I'm very excited**.

* * *

Chapter Two

Curses

* * *

 _Dragon blood is one of the most useful types of blood in the Wizarding World, next to Unicorn blood and -_

Hermione slammed the book closed. She didn't need to know why dragon blood was good or what exactly it was good for. She needed to know how to get past a dragon. The closest she'd found was that dragon skin was ridiculously hard to penetrate, even with the most skilled of magic. Not that she wanted Harry to kill the dragon. Just stun it enough to get around it.

She would get through books a lot faster if she had Ron and Harry with her. Well, mainly Ron. Both boys were in Divination, which meant that Hermione would have been alone to hunt through books and bury her nose in pages no matter what. But when Harry wasn't in a lesson, they'd both pour over books. Though Ron could be irritating at the best of times, three heads were better than two.

And one was better than none, she told herself as she combed the last few pages of _Unbeatable Magical Creatures._

But when said head was distracted…

It wasn't only Harry and the Triwizard Tournament that was distracting her. As much as she hated it, Draco Malfoy was plaguing her thoughts. She was sick of him. Sick of the way he treated her friends and sick of the way he treated _her._ She had proved him wrong on more than one occasion, but that wasn't satisfying enough.

What _was_ satisfying was when she punched him in the face last year. If she could only do that again…

But, no. That wasn't going to happen.

She blew a strand of hair out of her forehead and glanced up across the the room. She wish she hadn't. Instead of being acquainted with shelves crammed with books, her eyes met Viktor Krum's. He smiled at her. She blinked a few times, taken aback. She'd never seen him smile before. She'd caught him staring, yes, but never smiling. It lit up his whole face, which usually looked uninviting and surly. Despite herself, she felt her cheeks redden.

He opened his mouth to speak.

That's when she heard it. A giggle. And sure enough when she turned around, a group of girls were gathered behind her. They weren't looking at her, though. Their eyes were fixed unswaying on Krum. Another one of them giggled and waved.

Hermione glanced back over at Krum. The smile was gone. Instead, he was looking more like his moodier self. He went back to his book, his giant shoulders hunched and hostile. Hermione sighed and closed her book. Back to the common room it was, then. There was no way she'd be able to concentrate with his fanclub hanging around.

Avoiding the beady gaze of Madam Prince, Hermione made her way to the door. She felt eyes on the back of her head and against her better judgment, turned. Krum was watching her again with a piercing gaze. Face suddenly hot, she disappeared through the door and out into the corridor.

She made it just in time for Herbology.

"Settle down, settle down everyone," came the brisk voice of Professor Sprout.

Harry appeared ten minutes later, out of breath, dragging his feet along. His fringe stuck to his forehead. Swiping it out the way, he muttered a hurried apology to Professor Sprout. Hermione, alarmed, looked up at him. She waited for him to speak, but he clutched a stitch in his side.

"Hermione," he whispered, eyes on Professor Sprout. "Hermione, I need you to help me."

"What d'you think I've been trying to do, Harry?" she hissed, chancing a glance over at Professor Sprout herself. But she had nothing to worry about. The Professor was deep in conversation with Neville Longbottom, who chatted happily away.

"I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon."

"Right," said Hermione shakily. She'd seen his Charms work. "Right. We can do this."

* * *

They skipped lunch and went to find an empty classroom. Hermione instructed him as if she were a teacher, correcting everything from his arm movement to the way he held his wand. She made him do it over and over and over. After a while he managed to make a vase move but instead of flying into his hands, it smashed into the wall next to him.

McGonagall burst into the room, wand at the ready, eyes lined with concentration. They widened when she saw Hermione and Harry staring at her, wide eyed and terrified.

"What on earth are you doing?" she barked, her voice echoing in the empty classroom.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. They knew it was a lost cause. They were going to have to be honest.

"I'm helping him to do a summoning charm," Hermione admitted, looking McGonagall right in the eyes.

"A summoning charm?"

"For the Task, Professor," said Harry. He pleaded with his eyes. _Please don't kick us out._

Strictly speaking, they weren't supposed to use a empty classroom without a teacher present, but McGonagall couldn't stay with them. It would be seen as helping Harry. There would be an outcry, a declare of favouritism in most people's eyes, especially the Hufflepuffs.

"Very well. I'll leave you be then," she said and turned on her heel to leave. But before she did, she turned back to them. "Oh and Potter? Your arm needs to be just that little bit higher. I entrust this to you, Miss Granger - that he manages to perfect this spell before the task."

Hermione, who couldn't believe their luck, spoke breathlessly, "Of course, Professor."

The only time they left the room was for dinner and for bathroom breaks. One time, after a particularly long bathroom break, Harry stormed back into the classroom, face laced with humiliation.

He collapsed into a chair.

"Malfoy," he said before she could ask.

Hermione's face immediately hardened. "What about him?"

"I ran into him on my way back. That's why I was so long."

Hermione pulled up the chair next to him and sat on it. She looked into Harry's face as she spoke, her voice gentle. "What did he do?"

"Nothing much. The usual," he said, hotly. "He had that Potter Stinks badge again. Flashed it in my face for everyone to see."

Hermione remained silent for a moment. She could almost hear Harry fuming beside her. "He's vile," is all she said.

"I know."

And then, as an afterthought: "I wonder why he's so vile."

"He's a Malfoy," Harry spat. "A Slytherin. They're all vile."

"I know that. I mean, I knew he was always pathetic, right from the first day we met him. I could see the jealousy radiating off him from the moment he met you. But I always thought…" She shook her head.

Harry shot her a look. "What?"

She chose her next words carefully. "I just mean I thought maybe he'd grow up a bit, you know? Not everyone turns out like their parents. I thought he might become more bearable as he got older. But I suppose I was wrong."

"I don't think anyone can see the good in Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Hermione's voice was a little smaller when she spoke. "Like I said, he's vile."

Silence. It rang through the classroom, louder than shouting. Harry glared off into the distance. Hermione knew what he was thinking about; Malfoy, Ron, the task. She wondered what it must be like in his brain. She often found hers overcrowded, but it was at times like this that she didn't envy Harry Potter.

"C'mon," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "Let's get this. We'll show him. Spineless, pathetic ferret that he is."

The corner of Harry's mouth tugged in a resistant smile. That was good enough for Hermione. She jumped up and pulled him to his feet.

* * *

They practiced well into the night, until Hermione was fighting yawns every five seconds.

"That's brilliant, Harry," she said, hiding a yawn behind her hand. "Brilliant. I think you've got it."

"Accio, accio, accio!" he chanted as all manner of things flew across the room towards him; pencils, blackboard wipers, heavy text books.

Even though Hermione was pale with exhaustion, and her eyes were half closed, she couldn't help but smile. "You've got it!"

Harry wanted to continue practicing but Hermione argued that might not be the best idea. They should probably get some sleep before the day dawned again. Harry resisted, but not for long. He told Hermione he knew she was right, she was always right, and he would never question her ever again, not after what she did for him today.

Together, they trooped back through the corridors, the invisibility cloak draped over both of them. They sped up to avoid Peeves, who was messing on with chalk in one of the empty classrooms. He loved it when he caught students out of bed and could raise havoc.

When they were out of Peeves' shadow, they were a little less than careful. Their footsteps echoed against the floor with each step they took, and Harry almost fell into a suit of armour. He managed to stop himself, but there was still a metal clang that made them both wince.

"Potter!"

The voice made them freeze. They slowly turned to each other.

"Malfoy," Hermione whispered. She narrowed her eyes.

"What's he doing here?" Harry whispered back.

"I know you're here, Potter." He sounded closer, almost right behind them. "I know you've been in that classroom. Professor Snape's on his way."

"It's a ruse!" Hermione hissed, her eyes flashing.

She should have known. Malfoy had been sour ever since Moody turned him into a ferret. It would give him nothing but glee to see Harry in detention the day before the task, so he couldn't have any more practice. Though Harry had mastered the summoning spell, it would be a hindrance for him to go without practice so close to the big day. And that's exactly what he wants, she thought.

There was one thing for it. She set her jaw and pulled her wand out of her robes.

"What are you-"

"Go," she hissed. "Get out of here. I'll distract him."

Harry's eyes widened. "Hermione, you can't."

"Oh yes I can. Look, you really don't need detention right now. You need to practice. I can curse him and be gone before anyone even notices I was there."

"Hermione-"

"C'mon Potter," Malfoy said, keeping his voice at a hushed whisper.

"Go, Harry. There's no point in being noble. Get out of here."

Before he could argue, Hermione slipped backwards out of the cloak and turned around to face Malfoy, wand at the ready.

He was stood next a window, moonlight pouring over, making his hair look even whiter than usual, even whiter than snow. His own wand was ready, clutched in his grip. He extended it as she appeared.

"Granger." His eyes widened briefly before they narrowed. "Potty's sent you to defend him, has he?" he sneered. "He really won't last two minutes in that task if he's sending a mud-"

" _Impedimenta_ ," she yelled. Malfoy was knocked off his feet before he had chance to get the word out.

"Petrificus Totalus," he wheezed from the floor.

Hermione blocked it but his aim was off anyway.

"Petrificus T-"

"Expelliarmus," came a lazy voice from behind them.

Hermione's wand flew out her hand and Snape caught it as he emerged from the shadows, his face twisting into a sickening smirk. Her heart pounded. She hadn't expected to be caught by Snape. She thought Malfoy was just lying to get Harry to reveal himself. A duel would certainly get Harry in trouble. She planned to be off before anyone even knew what was happening, best of all Malfoy.

"Tut, tut, Miss Granger. Attempting to curse my students, I see?" he said, slowly. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

She couldn't even look at him. She was glaring at Malfoy, who glared back at her. He'd gotten to his feet, and he was breathing heavily. His hair stuck up in all different directions. Every line of his face was etched with hatred.

"I said, do you have anything to say for yourself?" came Snape's voice when Hermione didn't speak.

"No, Sir," she said, finally turning to Snape.

Unlike Malfoy, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Hermione had the impression that he was trying very hard not to smile.

"Well then, let's see. Shall we say a detention for wandering the corridor out of hours? And perhaps we should take fifty points from Gryffindor for that truly abysmal spellwork."

Hermione didn't say anything. If Ron or Harry were here, they'd probably shout at Snape for the injustice of everything, but Hermione knew better. If she stayed quiet, she'd get out of this as painlessly as possible. She may have defied Malfoy, but she wasn't about to defy a teacher.

"In that case," sounded a voice from behind Malfoy.

Everyone turned to look at Professor McGonagall who walked into the light, in her night robes. Her hair wasn't pulled back in that signature bun, but loose and wavy around her shoulders. She held her wand out.

"It's only fair that Mr Malfoy is subjected to a detention too," she said, dryly. "Nothing gives the student the right to walk the corridors at night."

Malfoy scowled, dropping his glare to the floor. He didn't look at Hermione again, and she was glad of it. It made her feel a little better that Malfoy was being punished too. She hadn't expected it from Snape, who had never been fair to her once in his entire life.

Snape looked as if he'd just swallowed a lemon. "Of course."

McGonagall turned her sharp gaze to Hermione. "I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. I wouldn't have expected this type of behaviour from you. I trust it won't happen again?"

"No, Professor," she said.

"Good. Now get to bed."

With one last look at Malfoy - who still refused to look at her- Hermione turned and made her way back to the common room. If only she'd appeared to him a few seconds earlier. She would have got him and nothing else would have been said about it. He wouldn't want to tell anyone he'd been beaten by a-

By a-

A muggleborn.

Muggleborn, indeed.

There isn't any good in Malfoy, Hermione thought as she climbed through the portrait hole. Not one slither of goodness.


End file.
